


We Can Only Wonder Why

by Zimra



Series: I Wish the Wars Were All Over [11]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/pseuds/Zimra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rían and the rest of Húrin's household must cope with Lalaith's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rían and Huor

She sat on the low bench before the hearth, and a few minutes later she heard someone enter the room and cross the hall to sit beside her. It was Huor, his golden hair unkempt, the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced in the dim light of the burnt-out fire. Rían knew she must look just as bad - there had not been time to worry about such things in the last few days. 

“Where’s Morwen?” he asked quietly. 

“She’s asleep,” Rían answered, her voice breaking slightly with relief. Morwen had not slept in days; she had scarcely moved from her daughter’s bedside, eating only when Rían put food into her hands. She had remained for over an hour even after it was clear that Lalaith was gone, until at last Rían had pulled her cousin away, led her to her room, and tucked her into bed as if she were a child. Morwen had obeyed silently and without resistance, and that had frightened Rían more than anything else. 

Huor sighed. “I told Húrin to get some rest, but he wouldn’t listen. He all but begged me to spar with him, so of course I said no; he’d likely try to do himself a harm right now, and besides, it’s the middle of the night. I left him out in the yard, pacing.”

Rían hesitated for a moment, then asked, “How is Túrin?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“He’s much better,” Huor assured her, a shadow of his usual smile crossing his tired face. “I just checked on him. His fever broke a few hours ago, and he’s sleeping peacefully for now.”

Relief made her feel weak and shaky, and Rían leaned closer to the fire, hoping the warmth would help her stop trembling. Huor glanced at her, then rather tentatively put an arm around her shoulders. For a moment Rían was surprised, then she moved closer and leaned into him. Almost before she knew it she was crying, her face buried in his shirt, and he was holding her and stroking her hair. 

“I’m...sorry,” she gasped between sobs. Some tiny corner of her mind recognized that it was perhaps not entirely seemly, the way she was clinging to him, but she found she could not bring herself to care. “I should not be...this isn’t the time, not now when they need us the most...when Morwen needs me...”

He held her, waiting until her crying had subsided a bit. Then he said softly, “Morwen is asleep. As you should be.” 

“But there’s so much left to _do_ ,” Rían protested, the tears flowing heavy again as panic began to build inside her. “Someone has to pay the healer, and tell the servants what happened, and watch over Túrin so he’s not alone when he wakes, and make a shroud...” She took several deep, shaky breaths. “Huor, they’ve just lost a child. Húrin and Morwen shouldn’t have to handle it all on their own.”

“You’re right,” Huor said, “but we both of us need rest if we’re going to face the morning.” His hand on her hair was warm and soothing.

“Morwen’s always been brave for my sake. Even when her mother died” - Mendis, the great healer who had saved both Rían and her mother on the day Rían was born, had been lost to an illness just like Lalaith - “she was the one comforting me. I can’t let her go through this alone, I have to be brave for her now, I _have_ to.” 

“And you will. You’ve been through a lot for someone so young. I’m not sure you realize just how brave you are.” Huor’s arm was solid and comforting around her shoulders, and some deep-down part of her hoped that he would never let go. 

“I’m not,” she heard herself say, sitting up now and looking up at him. “Earlier, when Húrin got angry, and you had to...I was terrified.” 

When it had been certain that there was no longer any hope of their child surviving the night, Húrin had flown into a rage. He had knocked over the small bedside table with such force that one of its legs cracked, and would have done more damage if his brother had not grabbed him, pinning Húrin’s arms to his sides though the smaller man struggled and nearly overcame him. Rían had done nothing but huddle in the corner, too frightened to move - she had never seen her cousin’s kind-hearted husband lose his temper like that before - until Huor hauled his brother out of the room. Morwen had not even reacted to Húrin’s outburst, sitting perfectly still as though carved from stone, holding her daughter’s tiny hand and gazing at her sweet face and blonde curls still damp with fever. 

Huor paused a moment, staring into the dying fire as his eyes seemed to darken. “You think I wasn’t afraid?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I’ve never seen him...we’ve lost people before, friends, our parents, but this...” Abruptly he lifted his arm from her shoulders, angrily wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. This isn’t helping.”

“No, don’t say that!” Rian said, a sudden impulse making her reach out and take his hand in both of hers. He looked at her, surprised, and she found herself lost for words again.

She stood up shakily, brushing strands of hair out of her face. “I had better go check on Túrin,” she said quietly. Huor rose from the bench as well, standing slightly stooped so that he could still see her face in the dim light. 

“Let the boy rest; you’ll have plenty of time to see him in the morning, but you are going to be useless tomorrow unless you get some sleep. Would you like me to walk to you your room?” He sounded very polite now, almost formal, but he held out his hand to her, and when she took it he squeezed it tightly.

Rian nodded, and together they left the darkened hall in silence.


	2. Rían and Morwen

Rían sat on a low chair next to her nephew’s bed and listened to his quiet breathing, trying not to think too hard about what this day would bring. She had only managed a few fitful hours of sleep before a nightmare had woken her just before dawn, leaving her tense and restless. Finally, unable to fall asleep again, she had dressed quickly and gone to check on Túrin. She needed to be sure that he was really alright, and someone would have to be there to explain things to him when he awoke. 

The door opened quietly, and Rían turned to see Tarathel, Túrin’s nurse, enter the room. The older woman’s face was pinched with grief and worry, but the sight of Rían brought a tired smile to her face. 

“I thought I might find you here. Lady Morwen wants to see you - she’s in her room. I can watch the child until he wakes.”

Rían nodded and stood, gesturing for Tarathel to take her chair. The knot of worry in her stomach made it difficult to speak. She paused at the door and looked back at Túrin, watching him shift and mumble in his sleep, then left as quietly as she could. 

The hush of night still lay over the house, and she met no one on her way to Morwen’s room. Rían knocked softly on her cousin’s door, then opened it a little. Morwen looked up at her from where she sat on the bed, and said, “Come in,” in a tight, level voice. Rían obeyed, closing the door behind her. 

Her cousin was alone; Rían wondered if Húrin had been here at all last night, and where he was now. She hoped Huor had gotten some rest and would be able to look after him. The bed looked as though no one had slept in it, even though Rían had personally pulled the covers over Morwen last night; she must have made it herself already. 

Morwen was already dressed in a stately mourning gown, her hair braided and pinned under a dark veil. She had clearly taken more care with her appearance than Rían, who still wore yesterday’s braids, and upon waking had hastily donned a wrinkled black dress that she had last worn two years ago during the household’s mourning for Lady Hareth. Morwen’s face was a calm, cold mask, betraying no sign of weariness or grief, which Rían knew meant she was very upset indeed. 

When her cousin looked away and did not speak again, Rían went to sit beside her on the bed. Carefully she reached out and took Morwen’s hand; she did not grasp Rían’s in return, but neither did she pull away. 

“Your hands are cold,” Rían said after a moment, rubbing the one she held between both of her own. Morwen still did not respond. “How are you feeling? Is there anything that you need? I can go the kitchen and ask them to make you something to eat - I’ll bring it here, if you want to rest some more. Túrin is still asleep, but he’s going to be fine - his fever broke, and Tarathel is with him. I can take you to see him if you like.”

She knew she was babbling, trying desperately to fill the strange silence that hung between them, and only growing more distressed as Morwen continued to say nothing. At last her cousin brushed Rían’s hand aside and stood, turning to face her. 

“Thank you for your help last night, cousin.” She sounded cold, formal. “I hope you managed to get some rest. I have nothing further to ask of you, except that you continue to help the household run normally as you usually do.” 

It was such a stark dismissal that Rían could only sit there and gape at Morwen. She had steeled herself for this meeting, had prepared to be strong and to support her cousin in her grief as Morwen had always done for Rían, but she had not expected Morwen to push her away so completely. Rían knew as well as anyone that the stern Lady of Dor-lómin had something of a soft spot where her young cousin was concerned, which normally put her in a position to help Morwen in ways few others could, but now it seemed even that wasn’t enough. 

“Are - are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” she said, hating the way her voice had shrunk to a plaintive whisper. “Please, Morwen, let me help you.”

Morwen didn’t look at her, and the stiff expression on her face did not change. “Rían, I have a great deal of work to do today, and little time to spare for idle talk. If I need your help with anything out of the ordinary, I will tell you.”

Rían was shaking, her hands balled up into fists at her side. She bent her head, trying to hide the tears that had begun to fall against her will, her face burning with frustration and shame. She should not be crying; it was Morwen who had suffered most, Morwen who was in such pain that she would not even let Rían see how much. Rían was a grown woman now, not the little child Morwen had coaxed and carried and dragged from Dorthonion to Dor-lómin all those years ago, nor the shy girl who could hardly bear to sleep alone for fear of nightmares. Yet now she felt just as helpless and afraid as she had back then, and she could not even help the cousin who had given her so much. _Why can I not keep from crying for once in my sorry life…_

“Why are you pretending, to _me_ of all people, that you’re alright?” she burst out. “I know you’re not, I always know! You’re more upset than I’ve ever seen you, and it’s because Lalaith is -”

“Don’t!” Morwen snapped, her cold eyes and level voice suddenly alive with rage. “Do not speak that name! Never say it again! My daughter Urwen is dead - there is no laughter in this house!”

Rían stared at her, frozen, her tears choked off into silence. Then she turned away and hurried from the room, forgetting in her haste even to close the door behind her, breaking into a run as soon as Morwen was out of sight. 

She saw no one else on the way to her room - or at least, no one called out to her in alarm as she flew past them. She was scarcely paying enough attention to see where she was going, and unshed tears blurred her vision so that she almost ran past her own bedroom. With a sob of frustration, she wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind her, pulling off her shoes and almost tripping over her own feet before collapsing onto the bed. Burrowing as far beneath the blankets as she could go, Rían curled up into a tight ball and cried harder than she had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I finished this I realized there would be a need for a third chapter dealing with Morwen and Rían's reconciliation. I couldn't just leave it with them upset at each other, and I have a lot of very specific headcanons about the way this all goes down. Stay tuned (though the third chapter might take a while because I'm about to go back to school).


End file.
